The Sontaran Dilemma
by Forge2
Summary: A Sontaran Fleet is lured into an ambush by the Rutans and forced through an anomaly left over from the Time War. The Sontarans emerge in the Babylon Five Universe a few years prior to the Earth-Minbari War. War and conquest ensue.
1. Prologue

14

Prologue

Blacklight Marches—2238

Power flowed through him, raw plasma pouring down through the probic vent directly into his body. No need to eat or drink. Much more efficient to recharge directly, to be powered from the same source that fueled their ships. For most it was a simple painless process, but a few, an unlucky few could feel it. An almost-pain that screamed through your skull, bursting in your brain like a roaring madness, a chaotic maelstrom of color and sound that drowned out all other senses. He had taught himself long ago to treat the experience like a test, a battle to maintain consciousness. A battle he would win every time, as he had won all others, as he must win. His name was General Strag, Strag the Victorious, Strag the Deathwalker.

In younger days he had survived six months behind enemy lines evading near constant pursuit. His opponent had been cunning and resourceful, chasing him to the very edge of the galaxy and beyond. At last in the intergalactic wastes where light itself faded and died, his pursuers lost heart and withdrew. His was a life of constant never-ending vigilance, where even recharging was a painful struggle and he welcomed it. His wingman had lost concentration for a moment, been unable to maintain the necessary strength and been destroyed. Slowly he became aware of a voice penetrating the miasma of sound, color, and memories that accompanied the recharging. With great deliberation he reached back to where he knew the switch must be and deactivated the feeder. Even after all these years the sudden jolt left him disoriented. He glanced up blearily at the short squat figure of his second-in-command.

"Report, Commander Tiegh," he ordered.

"Sorry to interrupt you, General."

"Never be sorry," he barked as he rose to his feet. "It is a sign of weakness."

"Sir," Commander Tiegh agreed in the non-committal universal tone of subordinates. "Scanners detect enemy force on a parallel course, unknown size or composition. Jammers are interfering with our scans. Commander Stor has dispatched a squadron of scouts."

"Understood," replied the General exiting his quarters. Soldiers parted before the General as he barreled through the corridors with the Commander following a respectful step behind.

"General in the War Room," a Lieutenant announced. The General strode past him and took in the purple tint, the dozens of armor-clad soldiers standing at attention before their control consoles.

"As you were," he barked coming to a parade rest in the center of the War Room with his baton clutched behind his back. "Have you burnt through the jamming signal yet?" he asked.

"No sir," came the reply. "They are rotating frequencies."

"Very well. Order the fleet to Battle Status Two and contact the scout squadron."

"Yes sir," Commander Tiegh replied immediately. He took his position at one of the consoles. "Audio link established, sir."

"This is General Strag. Report status."

"Lieutenant Stenx, sir." The transmission crackled. "Approaching visual range now. Dropping to sublight in five…four…three…two…one..."

"Status Lieutenant," Strag barked.

"Enemy sighting confirmed sir. Eight…correction nine Rutan vessels," Lieutenant Stenx responded.

"Switch to visual," ordered the General. "Show me my enemy." A holo-projection materialized in the center of the room showing a grainy image from the scout ship's recorders. General Strag studied the imaged, noting the positioning of the nine dim orange vessels, almost like fireballs.

"What are the Rutans doing this far from the core?" asked Commander Tiegh.

"Their purpose is likely the same as our own, preparation for an offensive." Strag frowned thoughtfully. "Magnify image, left quadrant." The projection focused on one of the vessels in the middle of the formation. It seemed even dimmer than the others. Commander Tiegh stepped forward to get a closer look. Something seemed out of place.

"Is it venting atmosphere?" Commander Tiegh asked.

"So it appears," General Strag replied.

"Battle damage?" Commander Tiegh asked, but he sounded as unconvinced as Strag appeared to be.

"Has the 9th Battle Fleet laid claim to any glory I am not aware of?"

"No sir. If they had any engagements, he would have informed me," the Commander replied. "In our last conversation, Commander Staal indicated that his soldiers were growing impatient."

"The waiting before battle must be endured with dignity," the General said gravely. Impatience had led many capable Sontarans to a useless death.

"Of course sir." Commander Tiegh agreed. "But if not battle damage, then what?" He indicated the wounded vessel.

"We are not the only enemy they could have fought."

"We are the only enemy that could hurt them in this part of the galaxy."

"True." General Strag agreed. "Most likely they are attempting to draw us into a trap."

"Orders, sir?"

"We engage them." General Strag smiled savagely. "Plot an intercept vector, standard assault deployment. I want Stentor's Vengeance to lead."

"Commander Stor will be honored," Tiegh said. Strag waved the comment aside.

"Divert as much power as possible to the scanners. If this is a trap, then it is likely the jamming signal is hiding the teeth. See to it personally Commander Tiegh."

"Sir!" Tiegh snapped a perfect salute and marched to the scanner controls. He restrained his anger, barely. He was second-in-command of a Battle Fleet. Fiddling with sensors was beneath a warrior of his stature. The other Commanders in the fleet were permitted to bloody themselves, but the old man seemed to take a perverse pleasure in holding him back. Strag the Deathwalker, the Ravager of Kinn-lai was well past his prime. He was the oldest Sontaran Tiegh had ever met. His beard was shock white and his face was wrinkled and scarred. Perhaps once he had been the hero who walked on the edge of death a hundred times, but now he was just an old soldier who liked the sound of his own voice.

Tiegh looked up from the scanner console towards the holo-projector displaying the tactical situation. Strag was barking orders, holding the fleet in near perfect battle order. It was a cautious formation, Tiegh noted, but that was to be expected. There was no glory in blundering into a trap. Speaking of which, there was something odd about the jamming signal. It didn't look like any Rutan signal he had ever seen. In fact, it didn't even look…

"Sir!" The transmission broke Tiegh's line of thought. "The Rutan's are changing course," Lieutenant Stenx reported, "and accelerating."

"Confirmed," one of the crew said. "New course takes them outside the Rim."

"Pursue them," the General ordered. "Prepare for maximum burn. Lieutenant Stenx, shadow them but do not engage. I want to know their destination." Strag frowned. He was lacking information, information his enemy possessed. That was a very dangerous state of affairs. "Commander Tiegh, have you broken through the Rutan jamming yet?"

"No sir," Tiegh replied continuing as he approached, "but I do not believe it is Rutan, sir."

"Not Rutan," General Strag repeated. "Is it originating from the Rutan Fleet?"

"I believe so, sir." Tiegh said. The General nodded and turned away. He walked over to the observation port and gazed out at the stars as they rushed by.

"You may have just won the battle for us, Commander Tiegh," he said at length. "Let those like Stor have the glory, but take the victory for yourself. When the time comes, that is what High Command will remember."

"Yes sir." So the old man had been trying to teach him a lesson. "Even at full burn it will take us two days to overtake them."

"By which time we will have passed beyond the Rim into the wastes. That is where their trap will be sprung."

"The damaged Rutan ship will not be able to maintain this speed indefinitely."

"If it is damaged," said the General.

"Why persist in the ruse, now that we are committed?"

"Because Commander, we may have mistaken the teeth for the bait."

***

Lieutenant Stenx could feel the beginnings of fatigue seeping into his limbs. He would need to recharge soon. His attack pod came equipped with an energy feeder, but he dared not take the risk. Not when he and his squad were so close to the enemy, trailing just on the edge of scanner range. So far the Rutans did not appear to have penetrated the cloaking field around his ships, but the 5th Fleet was only a half-day behind and soon battle would be joined.

They said the latest cloaking fields were impenetrable, even by Rutan scans, but Stenx was doubtful. R&D was constantly churning out new and better weapons guaranteed to turn the tide of war decisively in Sontaran favor. It was the grunts who inevitably learned just how quickly the status quo was restored. Entire civilizations had risen from barbaric tribes to spacefaring empires and fallen back again, while the Sontarans and the Rutans danced their fatal dance among the stars. Stenx was a student of ancient poets from before the war, before the arts had faded. Their language was antiquated and their subject matter often frivolous, but Stenx had the same admiration for a well-crafted poem, as he did a well-crafted attack. It was a passion the General was rumored to share, though Stenx would never dare test that rumor.

"This is Commander Tiegh," crackled his communicator. "Estimate we will be in position in 10 hours. Proceed on a reconnaissance run of the damaged vessel. Believed to be source of jamming signal. Determine the nature of the damage and report back. Are there any questions?"

"No sir," Stenx replied. A lieutenant never had any questions for a Commander, not if he wanted to remain a lieutenant. Stenx considered his orders. He had been inching his squadron closer and closer to the Rutans, maneuvering for position, but scout the damaged ship would take them into the heart of the Rutan Fleet, an untenable position for a handful of fighters. But duty was duty, and all must play their part in advancing the Great Sontaran Cause, he mused to himself as he prepared the approach vector.

Impressively, the cloaking field still seemed to be holding, even as the squadron flew in the midst of the enemy fleet. He couldn't see them of course, but he screen told him that the fighters had maintained formation. Above them loomed the massive fireball of a Rutan assault cruiser. Up close it was not fire, but rather a vast crystalline luminous orange. Stenx watched it warily as he passed. A Rutan cruiser could hold over a hundred fighters. He did not breath a sigh of relief when they passed the cruiser, because Sontarans did not sigh, least of all in relief. Ahead the damaged vessel rushed into view, dimmer and less orange. There was something not quite right about the image, a little fuzzy around the edges. Almost as if…

Suddenly the controls flickered. Stenx glanced at his screen. Power fluctuations throughout the squadron. More importantly, the cloaking field had wavered, if only for a brief moment, but it was enough. Space was rapidly alive with laser fire, and dozens Rutan fighters. It happened too quickly not to have been planed.

"Drop cloak," he ordered breaking comm silence. "Prepare to break out." They were surrounded by Rutan ships and fighters on all sides, caught in a perfectly crafted net. The Rutan commander had been expecting them, Stenx realized. His wingman exploded, dissected by two Rutan fighters. Stenx swerved and caught the second fighter in a burst of meson cannon fire. His squadron was being massacred and driven deeper into the Rutan formation, towards the supposedly damaged vessel. The jamming signal was increasing, interfering with his ships function. Power fluctuations were increasing, and the Rutans were taking advantage. This close to the damaged ship, the image of it was becoming increasingly fuzzy and shimmered, as if like the Rutans themselves the ship had managed to shapeshift and hide its true nature.

As they were pushed closer and closer to the ship, the Rutans pulled back forming a defensive sphere not allowing any Sontarans to escape. His squadron had dwindled down to three, but at this distance the false image began to fade. For a brief moment, Stenx could see the ship for what it truly was. A glimpse at the scanner readings confirmed it.

"Lieutenant Stenx reporting," he said pouring all his pod's remaining power into the transmission. "The vessel is not Rutan. It is Timelord! Repeat it is Timelord!"

A burst of anti-light emerged from the Timelord artifact and engulfed the remainder of the squadron. When the burst faded, there was no trace of Lieutenant Stenx and his fighter pods. It was as if they had never existed.

***

"…not…utan…is…imelord…repeat…Timelor…" The garbled transmission crackled and died. The War Room was silent.

"Timelord," Commander Tiegh said with as much awe as a Sontaran could express. "They have a Timelord weapon."

"Yes. There are still many remnants of the Last Great Time War waiting to be claimed," General Strag said.

"Such a weapon could end the war."

"We need to adjust the battle stratagem. The Timelord device must be captured or destroyed. All other concerns are secondary. The Rutans must not be permitted to possess such power."

"We will not fail, sir."

"We must not fail Commander. The Cause may lie in our hands. Prepare for maximum burn. We shall try and spring the trap before they are ready." The General glared out at the stars. Commander Tiegh saluted and returned to the center of the War Room.

"Go to Battle Status One. Have all ships engage maximum burn at the command. We must isolate the Timelord device from the Rutan fleet. Destroy as many of the enemy as possible, but not at the expensive of the prime objective." Commander Tiegh paused as his instructions were relayed throughout the battle fleet. The General was tacitly allowing him operational control. It was no doubt a lesson of some kind. In the heat of battle, General Strag would likely take control. For now he seemed content letting Tiegh command a Battle Fleet, however briefly. It was an honor and a duty. "For Sontar!" cried Tiegh. "Initiate burn."

The Sontaran fleet expended almost the last of its fuel reserves. Accelerating faster and faster. At this speed they would be upon the enemy within minutes. Yet even as they surged forward, the Rutans slowed. Their deceleration coinciding almost perfectly with the Sontaran burn.

"We've overshot them," Commander Tiegh said staring at the holo-projector in shock. General Strag turned away from the observation port and smiled.

"Impressive," he said. "The enemy has chosen where they will stand. We shall indulge them. Bring the fleet about and set combat speed. Launch all fighters. Let the battle be joined. For Sontar!" He brought his baton down sharply into his opposing hand. The crack echoed through out the War Room.

And battle was joined. For over a hundred thousand years the Rutan Host and Sontaran Warburg had made war. Both sides were well practiced in the ways of the enemy. Space was alight with meson cannon fire and photonic missiles. Over a thousand fighters danced in the black. Swerving and ducking through the asteroids and debris, they spat death at each other. It was wonderful.

The Sontarans outnumber their enemy. Their frigates and destroyers pincered the Rutans seeking to pin them down, while the gunships circled making strafing runs. Explosions lit up the black, as cannon fire met shields. General Strag watched through his observation port. His flagship was back with the other motherships and the remainder of the reserves. The Rutans were falling back, slowly but surely. Their battle line was folding in on itself. General Strag smiled. This is what he lived for, what all true Sontarans lived for.

"Send Commander Stor," he ordered without looking back. He trusted his commanders to perform their function. No need to micromanage every detail of battle. He watched as the Linx-Class Cruiser, Stentor's Vengeance, surged forward. Its destroyer escort following. Commander Stor would secure the Timelord device or die in the attempt.

Commander Tiegh watched the holo-projector closely. Barking orders and keeping the fleet in formation. Stor was trying to force his way through the Rutan defense and they were parting before him. The Rutans were falling back, adopting increasingly defensive positions around the Timelord artifact. Drawing the Sontarans closer. Now that the deception was no longer necessary, the jamming signal had ceased. The Timelord artifact was visible in its true shape. It was dark and menacing, clearly a weapon. It looked almost organic, as if it had been grown not built.

As Commander Tiegh watched, the Stentor's Vengeance broke through the Rutan lines, and suddenly as if by prearranged signal, the Rutans disengaged and began powering up their FTL drives.

"They're preparing to retreat," Tiegh said astonished.

"No," General Strag corrected marching towards the hub of the War Room. "They're preparing to deploy the weapon." Even as he spoke, the Rutan fleet accelerated away, leaving the Sontarans alone in the path of the device. The front of the Timelord device began to glow and the space in front of it began to twist and distort. "All vessels target the weapon," said General Strag. "Disable, do not destroy!"

Cannon fire and photonic missiles impacted uselessly on the Timelord hull. It had been designed for a larger war. An anomaly formed in front of it, growing rapidly. Space ruptured as a tiny hole in the universe formed. Anti-light poured out. Darker than dark, it had passed from white through black and out the other side. The radius of the anomaly expanded rapidly striking a destroyed and sending it reeling, half of the ship no longer existing.

"Weapons have no effect, sir."

"So I see. All ships fall back. Retreat! We'll return to collect it before the Rutans." But the General's orders could not be obeyed. The fleet strained its engines futilely. The tear in the fabric of the universe was drawing them down inexorably. "Saturation strike," the General roared. "Destroy it now!" As before the Sontaran arsenal failed to scratch the surface. As the fleet neared the event horizon, a gunship broke formation.

"It's set on ramming speed," Commander Tiegh reported. "Should I order it back?"

"No. Their sacrifice will be noted." The War Room watched in silence as the gunship collided with the Timelord device at full speed. They died a fiery death together, but it was too late. A wave of anti-light engulfed the 5th Sontaran Battle Fleet, and when it faded nothing remained. No fleet, no anomaly, only a small debris field lingered for the Rutans to find. It was as if the Sontaran fleet had never existed.

Outskirts of Drazi Space—2238

There was an explosion that wasn't an explosion, a fleet where there hadn't been a fleet. It did not arrive through a jump point or materialize in some fashion. One moment it wasn't, and the next moment it was as if it had always been. The Great Machine of Epsilon 3 might have been able to detect the arrival, but its operator's attention was focused elsewhere. The squabbling First Ones were too busy watching each other to notice, but in a cave deep beneath Z'ha'dum the oldest of the old noticed and pondered.

The lights were dim in the War Room and damaged consoles burned brightly. General Strag did not help the Commander to his feet. Tiegh would not have appreciated the effort.

"We survive," Commander Tiegh noted. He kept his voice level, hiding the pain.

"Yes," General Strag agreed glaring out the observation port. Stars twinkled, more stars than there should have been out by the Rim. "But where are we?"


	2. First Contact

Chapter 1: First Contact

Fort Walters— Mars

Lieutenant Commander Ellis Pierce straightened his uniform nervously. The journey to Fort Walters had been conducted with utmost secrecy. His superiors had been circumspect and extremely tight-lipped, even for them. The Intelligence Division had not been his first choice, but if this assignment was as important as the secrecy implied, then it could be the final stepping-stone on the way to command of a capital ship. Manny of his contemporaries had already received their first commands, but Pierce consoled himself with the knowledge that due to his work in Intelligence Division, he was privy to more information than many of his superiors.

The briefing room was filled when he arrived. At least four divisions of Earthforce seemed to be represented, as well as a few civilians and a dark haired man who could only be a Psi Cop. General Fontaine sat at the head of the table engrossed in several reports.

"Lieutenant Commander Pierce reporting as ordered, sir."

"Ah! Pierce glad you could make it." The General glanced up and gave Pierce a searching look. They had never met before, but Pierce knew Fontaine by reputation. "Have a seat," said the General indicating the place to his right. "Let's get this briefing under way." Beneath his mild words, the General's voice was sharp and the chatter quickly died down. "As some of you already know, 12 days ago three fighters of unknown origin crashed on Sinzar IV. Two of the ships were destroyed on impact, but the pilot of the third managed a landing of a sort. Discreet inquiries among our allies have yielded no information. No one has any idea who our uninvited guest is, or where he comes from. Doctor Morden and Major Vassanji are on loan from the New Technologies and R&D Divisions. They will be coordinating our attempts to reverse engineer the technology found in the fighters. Doctor Walsh and her team of xenobiologists will be studying the alien. Would you kindly share your initial findings?" It was not a request.

"Judging by the alien's size and shape I would postulate that he evolved in a high gravity environment. He is likely extremely strong, but I will have to wait until he wakes in order to determine how strong," Doctor Walsh said. "The alien seems to have entered a anabolic coma that appears to be accelerating the healing process. At least I assume it is accelerated, for all we know this could be normal."

"What have you been able to determine, Dr. Morden?"

"Not very much so far, I'm afraid. Major Vassanji and I agree that it will take years to fully understand the alien's technology. I can say that it is easily the most advanced we have ever come across, even more so than the Centauri. The alien's armor has symbols on it, which I assume represent some form of rank. The fighter itself does not appear to be a prototype. As far as we can tell various components have been replaced or repaired over time, although given the degree of damage I will need to perform more detailed scans before I can be certain. This implies that the technology is common and more importantly, that it is commonly used. The alien's people are, or recently have been at war. Of course," Morden continued. "We must be careful not to base our analysis to heavily on the prisoner. He is clearly a soldier. His people may not be so militaristic." Morden grinned. It reminded Pierce of a used cars salesman, and he had a feeling he would not like this Dr. Morden very much.

"This is all conjecture," Lieutenant Commander Pierce said. "What do we know?"

"What we know," said the General grimly, "is that it took an entire platoon of GROPOS 8 days to track and capture the alien. What we don't know is where he came from, or what he's doing in Earth Alliance space. The enemy could be massing at the gate as we speak. Lieutenant Commander Pierce, you Agent Endawi and Mr. Bester will be interrogating the prisoner. The President and the Joint Chiefs are taking the threat very seriously. You have been authorized to use any means necessary. Information is the key to victory."

Stentor's Vengeance—Outskirts of Drazi Space

Jano Kodiro screamed. Pure terror coursed through his veins, a blinding all-consuming fear. He had never been so afraid, not even during one of Lord Refa's periodic inspections. He was just a lowly adjunct, but the House Refa was not known for its mercy. Still he thought he'd been safe. Everything seemed to be going well for once. The mines had met Lord Refa's quotas. The Narn seemed to be quieting down at last. Kodiro had never imagined this. He worked in Lord Refa's private mines, the source of that Great House's vast wealth. It was one of the most highly guarded systems in the Republic. To be taken from underneath the nose of entire fleet of Primus battleships should have been impossible. Yet here he was, Jano Kodiro, the prisoner of an unknown race. It was doubtful his absence had even been noted. The mighty House Refa would not care about the fate of servants. He knew with out a doubt that there was no help coming. He was alone on an alien ship, alone and afraid, so afraid. A nameless mind-numbing terror gripped him and would not let him go. He couldn't control it, couldn't escape it. Kodiro was not even entirely sure what he was afraid of, but that didn't matter all that mattered was the fear. At last, Jano Kodiro of the Centauri Republic fell to his knees and wept.

Watching the Centauri through hidden cameras, Major Vrenn seemed impervious to his prisoner's suffering. "Results of Experiment 7: resistance to fear," he intoned, "subject is a male Centauri approximately 34 years of age. Fear stimulated through manipulation of subject's brain. Result: subject's cortical functions are heavily impaired." Major Vrenn manipulated the controls switching the camera to another cell. It showed a reptilian alien crouching in a corner, half dead. "Results of Experiment 5: Drazi resistance to fluid deprivation, subject is male Drazi, approximately 29 years of age. After 9 days of fluid deprivation, subject is suffering from delirium and nausea. Heart rate has increased. Prognosis: subject will die within two days."

The door to the observatory swung open. Major Vrenn looked up from his work. Most knew better than to interrupt him. He hid his annoyance quickly, when he saw who the intruder was. "Sir!" Vrenn shot to attention.

"As you were Major," said Commander Stor. "I am told your report will take a further 2 weeks. Is this correct?"

"Yes sir. There is still work to be done studying the subjects' reactions to various…"

"I am not interested in your delays," Commander Stor snapped. "The scouts have done their duty. The fleet is in battle status. All that impedes our advance is the slow compilation of your report."

"The experiments can not be rushed, sir. My report will contain information of use to the stratagem. Information is the key to victory," said Major Vrenn.

"Did you just quote the Military Codex to me, Major?"

"Sir." The response was non-committal.

"I should have you punished for such insolence. The Military Assessment Survey has always been the weakest division, expending a great deal of time and effort with nothing useful to show. I want a copy of your report as soon as it has been compiled." Commander Stor turned to go.

"I report directly to the General, sir."

Stor turned and snarled. "Then I shall tell him of your insubordination."

"Yes sir," Major Vrenn replied levelly.

Fort Walters— Mars

Lieutenant Stenx woke. He instinctually catalogued his injuries, only a few minor bruises and scrapes. The anabolic coma appeared to have performed its function. He stretched his senses, as all Sontarans were taught. The gravity field was not very strong here, especially not for a Sontaran. There was the distinct tang in the air of pressurized and recycled air. Stenx concluded that this planet was not his captor's homeworld, and more importantly they were unwilling or unable to terraform it. This indicated a great deal about their technological level or their politics, in either case, information that could be exploited. Sontaran soldiers were trained to operate behind enemy lines, although Stenx had never needed to put those lessons in action before.

He opened his eyes to study his situation more closely. His armor had been removed, no easy task. His prison was drab and grey. The lights were kept low, presumably to intimidate. One wall was taken up by dark glass, obviously a primitive observation point of some kind. Stenx studied the architecture, stark and functional. There was a single doorway, locked from the outside. It appeared to be optimally built for a sontaranoid approximately twice the average Sontaran height. Stenx's observations confirmed he was not held by the Rutans, but by a much younger spacefaring race. Stenx hid his smile. The situation was not as difficult as it might have been. He had been captured and disarmed, but a Sontaran was never defenseless.

The cell door clanked open admitting three figures. Stenx studied them. The one in the lead appeared slightly older than the others. Stenx did not recognize the uniform, but he recognized the species. They were human. Despite the minor discrepancies in skin pigmentation, they were all human. Stenx hid his confusion. According to the most recent intelligence reports, Earth and its colonies were still recovering from a Dalek Invasion.

"I don't know if you can understand me," said the uniformed man. Stenx turned to him, carefully projecting a mask of incomprehension. His confusion was growing. The humans were a relatively new interstellar species, but there had been several minor skirmishes in recent centuries. Yet these humans did not seem to know his species. Perhaps this was a lost colony or isolationist faction. Unless of course his captors were feigning ignorance as a stratagem of some sort. Time would tell.

"I am Lieutenant Commander Pierce and this is Agent Endawi," the uniformed man continued indicating the man to his right. Stenx noted that he did not introduce the pink skinned man in black. Possibly indicative of internal discord that could be exploited. "We have a few questions," Pierce said. "Questions that need answering."

Sontaran Flagship—Outskirts of Drazi Space

Commander Stor marched down the corridors of the Glory of Antares. He ignored the underlings who parted before him, and didn't bother returning their salutes. The fleet was ready, and the stratagem prepared. The Sontaran war machine was being stalled by a single soldier, a mere major. Timelord weapons and enemy trickery had robbed Commander Stor of his chance for glory in the true war, the Rutan War. He had been promised a place of honor at the forefront of the Grand Offensive. The paltry conquest of this universe would have to suffice, but even that was stymied. He was a commander in the 5th Sontaran Battle Fleet. He should not have to wait for battle.

"There you are, Commander," called a voice from behind him. Commander Stor turned and immediately snapped to attention at General Strag's approach. "I'm told you wished to speak with me," said the General.

"Yes sir, regarding Major Vrenn."

"I see," replied the General. "Walk with me."

Together they made their way deeper into the ship. Commander Stor outlined his complaints and demanded the Major be punished.

"The G3 Military Assessment Survey is known for its methodical precision, and that is precisely why I requested Major Vrenn. On several occasions I have owed victory to an Assessment report."

"Sir, he is insubordinate and…"

"He is used to operating alone behind enemy lines. Such duty fosters certain habits that I am willing to overlook in favor of results, as I overlook your own." The General's tone sharpened warningly. Commander Stor realized the battle was lost, for now.

"Where are we headed, sir?"

"Captain Slorr has a report that I thought you would want to hear. Commander Tiegh is waiting for us."

"What report?"  
"A report, Commander, regarding our return home."


	3. Preparations

Chapter 2: Preparations

City of Morkan—Bricarn III

Karnath rose early, as was his custom. His servants had washed and bathed him, before the sun had even risen. Today would be a busy day, as all days had been busy for as long as he could remember. Karnath stood at the window to watch the dawn, blearily whipping the sleep from each of his three eyes. In a few hours the city would be bustling with traders and farmers from all over Bricarn, although fewer and fewer were taking the journey from the outlying regions. Morkan was one of the few cities still standing, one of the few cities with power. Blackouts had forced the city to ration its power, but most places had nothing at all.

They had salvaged what they could from the remnants of Centauri occupation, but no one truly understood how their technology worked, what it exactly did, and more importantly how to fix it. The Centauri had returned the planet as abruptly as they had taken it, leaving chaos in their wake. The Elders had held the planet together for almost a decade, mostly through luck and leveraging Centauri technology, but Karnath doubted they could keep control much longer. The communications network, the thin thread tying Bricarn together, was failing. Huge swaths of the planet had gone dark. Reports indicated wars were breaking out between local lords and vassals. Many Elders wanted to summon their own vassals and reestablish their dominion by force, while they still had the means. Karnath thought they were fighting the inevitable. Even if they could gather a sufficient army for conquest, without the communications network it would be too large a territory for any one government to control. His gloomy thoughts were interrupted by a knock.

"Come in," Karnath called. A young servant entered quietly with a bow.

"Elder," she said, "my Lord Norak requests your immediate presence in the Science building."

Karnath nodded grimly. "Have my coach prepared," he ordered. The transport system had finally stuttered to a halt six months ago, and Karnath had not yet adjusted. This would likely be bad news. These days Norak seldom had anything good to report.

Fort Walters— Mars

Alfred Bester barely made it out of the interrogation room before he threw up. The questioning was not going well. The alien had not spoken a word, despite almost a month of increasingly severe techniques. Doctors Walsh and Morden were not even sure if the alien could understand them, but Lieutenant Commander Pierce had been sure. He had been initially unwilling to use Bester's expertise, but had eventually agreed. Agent Endawi had been more polite, although in a way his excessive politeness was as insulting as Pierce's gruffness. Still, what more could you expect from mundanes? Their distaste was practically broadcast, their minds ridiculously open.

The alien's mind, by contrast, was a different story all together. Silent and controlled, the alien wasn't telegraphing even a single stray thought. A surface scan had encountered incredibly hard and dense mind shields, unlike any Bester had ever encountered. The alien was not a telepath, of that Bester was certain, but he had experience or training with them. Bester had battered against the alien's shield. He was one of Psi Corps most powerful agents. No mundane, even a trained alien one, could withstand him.

They had sat there for hours staring at each other across the table. Bester employed every trick he had ever learned. He poked and prodded. He battered and hammered. It was a strange experience. At last Bester breached the alien's defenses and slipped into his foe's mind. It was utterly alien. Bester was confronted with a labyrinth of alien sights and sounds, of strange concepts and words. He felt himself be born in a vat, the first gasp of air, the first primal calls to war. Bester retreated. His mind overloaded with incomprehensible information. Bester turned and ran for the corridor. They were going to need more telepaths.

City of Morkan—Bricarn III

Karnath entered the Science Building with some trepidation. He noticed a few other Elders, who looked as worried as he felt. Norak had been a Technician 4th Class under Centauri rule, which made him the most knowledgeable concerning the remaining technology. The poor man had done his best, but the truth was he had only been a glorified button pusher. Karnath approached his fellow Elders.

"Does anyone know what this is about?" he asked.

"Norak won't say," answered one. "But he's been getting more agitated."

"We could have lost another part of the network."

"No we're always loosing the network. Norak would not have summoned us for something so common." The Elder's voice was biter.

"Perhaps he's discovered something about the monoliths," suggested another Elder, as they walked towards the control room.

"Perhaps," Karnath agreed. The so-called monoliths were a new development. They had cropped up across the world over the past month, hundreds of them, perhaps even thousands if they were also appearing in dark zones. Karnath had believed them only a story, a rumor, but several Elders had seen them with their own eyes.

They found the control room in a state of panic. Norak was manipulating controls as fast as he could, with all four hands. He turned and gave the Elders a distracted bow.

"What's going on," Karnath demanded.

"We're not sure," Norak reported. "The controls have been going wild for almost an hour."

"What are these controls for?"  
"They've never gone active before," said Norak. "We think they're some kind of orbital scanners."

"Orbital?" Karnath repeated slowly. "Are the Centauri back?" He wasn't sure what would be worse, if they were, or if they weren't.

"I don't believe so. There's hardly any power left for the computers, but the Centauri database doesn't seem to recognize them whoever they are."

Sontaran Flagship—Orbit above Bricarn III

General Strag stared out at the planet before him. It was a beautiful world, if any world but Sontar could be considered beautiful. It was pathetic, though. No defenses could even put up a token fight. It was a shame to conquer without battle, but there were higher concerns. The primitives below, even with Centauri technology would have been slaughtered anyway. It might have proved a diverting sport, but Strag had no time for sport.

"The stealth pods have docked," Commander Tiegh reported. "Scans confirm the devices are all in position and operational."

"Excellent," said General Strag. "Congratulate your squad. They have performed adequately."

"Yes sir."

"Release the cloning feed," General Strag ordered.

Fort Walters— Mars

Lieutenant Stenx was alone at last. The human telepath had been surprisingly strong. Perhaps nearly as powerful as a Rutan, but Stenx had no basis for comparison. The telepath had managed to penetrate his mind, but he'd overwhelmed the human's mind with useless information, as he'd been trained. It seemed to have worked. The interrogators had withdrawn, no doubt to plan their next move, but they would return possibly with more telepaths. Stenx frowned. The Sontaran Military Assessment Survey was always looking for telepathic species that could be used to counter the Rutan's own abilities. Earth had been surveyed several times over the centuries and there had been negligible results. There were perhaps a handful of low-level human psychic, but none with the power the human had just demonstrated.

Stenx had noticed several other discrepancies. He had answered none of his captors' questions, despite their laughable attempts at torture, but he had learned a great deal about them. Their questions had been illuminating. These humans had definitely never met Sontarans before. If their ignorance had been a ruse, then it would have ended long ago. However, they did not appear to be isolationists or long lost colonists. Their ties to Earth seemed direct and immediate. In fact, Stenx calculated that there was a good chance he was in the human home system, but nothing seemed to fit. Stenx had not made a study of the humans, but he was familiar with the general outline in that galactic region. The humans had mentioned several species during their questioning, but Stenx recognized none of them. A terrible suspicion was starting to occur to him. Perhaps the Timelord weapon had displaced him not in space or time, as he had thought, but in dimensions. If that was true, then he could be the only Sontaran in this reality. He could be alone without a war to call his own.

Sontaran Frigate—Bricarn System

The frigate approached the jumpgate cautiously. Captain Slorr watched as the four metal struts became larger and larger. It was an impressive design. Slorr admired the scope and ambition of a galaxy-wide transportation network, although he questioned the wisdom of depending solely on hyperspace for interstellar travel. The scouts had yet to find a single species that used an alternate form of travel, which surprised Slorr. An FTL drive was extremely common technology in the home universe. In fact it was often developed before hyperspace. Such issues, however, were not his concern.

"Be on your guard," Captain Slorr said, as the ship pulled along side the jumpgate. "We do not want any vessels to come through while we're working." Despite his minor curiosity about the design and history of the jumpgate, Slorr did not care about its hyperspace abilities. In fact, the jumpgates would have only been considered useful tactical data, if scans had not detected high concentrations of an especially rare radioactive material in their composition. The local races seemed to collectively refer to it as Quantium 40, but the name didn't matter. All that mattered was that Captain Slorr would put it to better use in service to the Great Sontaran cause.

City of Morkan—Bricarn III

The monoliths had served their purpose well, releasing Sezerfine gas and saturating the atmosphere. Already the skies had darkened, sunlight choked by the gas. Karnath struggled to breath the increasingly toxic air. They had tried to seal all the windows and doors in the Science Building, but the gas was still seeping in slowly but surely. Norak and several others were already dead, and Karnath was not far behind. He collapsed to the ground, erupting into a fit of hacking coughs. In 16 hours every living thing on Bricarn III would be dead, and a new Sontaran Cloning World would be born. Karnath knew none of this. He knew only that his lungs were burning and his heart was pounding. Then he knew no more.


	4. The Shape of Things to Come

Chapter 3: The Shape of Things to Come

Outskirt of the Imphill System

The jumpgate awoke with a flash of lights. Space twisted and folded as the fabric between one dimension and another was ripped asunder. Four Drazi Sun Hawks emerged from the swirling blue vortex before it closed behind them. They were not affiliated with the Freehold, not officially. From the bridge of the lead ship, Sabar glared down at Imphill III. He'd had a promising military career once. Served with distinction against the Dilgar, before accusations of cowardice had ruined him. None of his raiders had ever been brave enough to ask the specifics. Still Sabar was loyal in his own way. He might prey on any ship that he came upon, Drazi or otherwise, but here on the frontier of Drazi space Sabar was willing to play his part in Drazi expansion, for a price of course. Imphill III was a beautiful world, not that he cared about beauty. More importantly, it was an abundant bounty. Through Sabar, the Drazi had held this world of timid farmers virtually hostage. The Freehold didn't have to bother with the expensive business of conquest, and Sabar was positioned to make a regular profit. More money, in fact, then he ever would have made in the military. Besides, primitive farmers were unlikely to fight back.

"Sir," the voice cut through Sabar's dreams of luxury and retirement. "We're detecting vessels in orbit."

"Centauri," he snapped angrily. Imphill was his domain. No one could take it from him.

"No sir. I'm reading six unknown ships in high orbit." Sabar pushed the underling out of the way to examine the readings himself, but he didn't recognize the ships either. They certainly weren't Centauri but who ever they were they had spotted the raiders. Two ships had detached themselves from the group and were approaching fast, faster than any ships Sabar had ever seen.

"Sound the alarm," he ordered. "Prepare for battle." The intruders were arrogant sending only two ships after him. Four Sun-Hawks was enough to make even a Vorchan think twice. He'd fight them all the way back to the jumpgate and return with a larger force to teach these upstarts a lesson. Yet even as Sabar formulated his battle plans, the enemy was upon him.

This was the first time ships of one universe engaged ships of the other, and it quickly presaged things to come. The Drazi opened fire first, pouring particle beams, plasma and missiles at the enemy ships. The full armament of four Sun-Hawks deflected harmlessly off the enemy's shields. Then the Sontarans returned fire. Meson cannons and photonic missiles, weapons perfected by millennia of never-ending warfare, tore through the Drazi with a vengeance. Within moments two Sun-Hawks were erupted in soundless explosions.

Sabar forced himself back to his feet. Around him, the remainder of his crew struggled to do the same. The engagement had lasted a little over a minute. He'd never been this outmatched, not even against the Dilgar. Suddenly the bridge was illuminated with numerous blue lights, which faded revealing short squat figures in blue grey armor. Intruders! He reached for his weapon, but they were faster. Laser fire erupted throughout the bridge. The intruders were quick and precise. The bridge crew was gunned down in seconds. Sabar was thrown against the wall by multiple blasts. He knew he was dead, but there was something he still had to do.

"Who…who are you?" he breathed. One of the intruders stepped forward, clearly the leader. He removed his helmet in a practiced maneuver revealing squat brown-grey features of a race Sabar had never seen before.

"I am Captain Sarg of the 5th Sontaran Battle Fleet," the intruder said. "Do not be ashamed, Drazi. You die in battle. There is no better death."

Sabar spat in his enemy's face, one final act of defiance, then slumped to the floor dead.

"Wonderful," Captain Sarg said wiping the spittle from his cheek.

"Sir, you do them too great an honor. This was not battle. It was sport."

"True," Captain Sarg agreed. "But even in sport one should honor worthy prey."

Fort Walters— Mars

Stenx stared at the wall lost in thought. He was weak now and getting weaker. It had been almost six months since he last recharged and the so-called food his jailers provided was a poor substitute for raw plasma. His captors thought their interrogations were finally starting to take their toll, but Stenx had endured worse in basic training. Fatigue and energy withdrawal was beginning to impair his mind. Stenx was prepared to die for the Cause, but this was not his universe. Here there were no Sontarans, no Rutans, and no Cause to die for. He was alone. The Military Code did not cover this eventuality. Standard operating procedure when isolated was to gather information, negotiate or coerce local primitives with the primary objective being the return to the front. Stenx had occupied himself in gathering data. He'd certainly learned more about his captors then they had about him, but the information was of little use. The existence of large quantities of human telepaths could have proved useful against the Rutans, but there was no one for Stenx to report the intelligence.

There was no way home. He was a soldier, not a scientist. Even if he had understood the principles behind the Timelord weapon, Stenx could never have replicated it with these human's disgustingly primitive technology. Still survival was the prime motivation of all species, and he needed to get out of this cell. The stratagem would need to be flexible to take advantage of opportunities has they occurred, but Stenx had been a squadron leader. He could be flexible, for a Sontaran any way.

The cell door opened to admit the daily trio. Stenx had gotten to know Pierce, Endawi, and Bester quite well over the past few months. Their increasing frustration had provided Stenx a much-needed source of amusement. He could imagine the pressure their superiors were placing on them. Stone-faced investigators, gruff military men, the scientist with beady eyes and an insincere small, even groups of telepaths had rotated through here. In the end, however, these three always returned. Stenx was glad, in a way, that it was them. After all their hard work, they deserved to be rewarded.

"Lieutenant Commander Pierce," he greeted. "Special Investigator Endawi, Mr. Bester." Stenx watched their reactions with great amusement. Bester controlled his expression better than the others, but even he could not disguise his shock completely. Stenx knew that these three had always maintained that he understood them, but to have that belief so suddenly and unexpectedly confirmed was quite a jolt. He waited until his captors had schooled their features.

"I am Lieutenant Stenx of the 5th Sontaran Battle Fleet," he said. "Tell your superiors I have a proposition for them."

City of Valipheen—Imphill III

The streets were crowded with long silent lines of people herded towards the old palace. Short squat figures with imposing guns kept the citizens of Valipheen quiet and subdued. The invaders did not look like the cannibalistic Narn, the indescribably cruel Centauri or even the oozing, squishy-skinned Humans of whom the Drazi had warned. Most people had come to believe that the Drazi had merely been making up stories to frighten them into servitude, but now it seemed the demons were real and here on Imphill itself. Some the cagier members of the throng began to wonder if the Drazi's extortion might have been worth it after all.

The square before the palace was filled to bursting. The people stared in wonder and fear, in joy and trepidation, some even with all of the above. For there upon the palace gates over a dozen Drazi heads were stuck on pikes, a few still dripping milk-white blood.

" By order of General Strag, supreme commander of the 5th Sontaran Battle Fleet," one of the intruders called into the hushed and fearful silence. "This world and its attending moons are now property of the Sontaran Empire. We have destroyed your oppressors. You will repay us with service to the Great Sontaran Cause. Perform your assigned tasks well, and you will be rewarded. Martial law is now in effect. Failure to comply will result in immediate execution. Together we shall make the Drazi bleed and suffer as you have suffered. For the Glory of Sontar!"

Fort Walters— Mars

"Why now?" General Fontaine asked. "We've had the alien…the Sontaran in custody for almost six months. We've subjected it to every interrogation technique we've ever thought of, thrown Teeps at him and gotten nothing to show for it. I've had the Joint Chiefs breathing down my necks, and now for no reason it feels like talking. Again, why?"

"Sir," Dr. Walsh leaned forward. "The alien's life-signs have been fluctuating for weeks. We assumed it was because of the Lieutenant Commander's…aggressive questioning, but perhaps the uh…Sontaran is suffering from some unknown ailment. That might explain the sudden shift in its actions."

"Or it's simply been stalling, waiting for a prearranged moment to strike."

"With respect, sir," said Endawi. "It's been six months and Earth Alliance hasn't been over run by potato men."

"Lieutenant Stenx claims that his people are engaged in a war on the far side of the galaxy. Too far away and too busy to bother with us."

"He could be lying. For all we know the Sontarans are right outside the gates."

"All of this is purely guesswork," Major Vassanji interrupted. "The fact is that Dr. Morden and myself have made no real progress in understanding the alien's technology. The crashed ship is a goldmine that could put the Alliance so far ahead of the other races, but we haven't even scratched the surface. The Sontaran's help would be invaluable…"

"It would also give him access to his ship, which might be the whole point…"

"Enough!" General Fontaine pounded the table. "The ultimate decision lies with the President and the Joint Chiefs, but we're the closest thing they have to Sontaran experts. Lieutenant Commander, your team spent the most time with this Lieutenant Stenx. What do you think?"

Pierce took a moment to compose his thoughts. "I believe the offer is genuine, as far as it goes. Lieutenant Stenx will fulfill his end so long as it suites his purposes, but he has an agenda of his own."

"I concur," said Endawi.

"And you Mr. Bester?" General Fontaine sighed. Telepaths made his skin crawl at the best of times. "Mr. Bester!" he called sharply when the Psi Cop failed to respond. The telepath shook himself and focused on the General.

"Oh I agree, " Bester said with a disquieting smile. "He's using us and we're using him. That doesn't mean it can't be…beneficial all round."

Bester gave an internal sigh of relief. That had been close. He'd allowed himself to become distracted. It would not happen again. Only two hours ago, he'd felt the alien's mental walls drop, which for a P-12 was the equivalent of shouting, and even as the alien had made his offer to Pierce, Bester had heard another mental voice.

"I have seen you and your kind treated with contempt and distaste," the Sontaran had spoken in his mind. "Telepaths are clearly the superior part of the species. Perhaps your Psi Corps and I could reach a mutually beneficial arrangement…"

Yes, Bester agreed, as he listened to the mundanes debating all around him, perhaps they could.


End file.
